Yes, I’m into my fifties now. Hooray! Each morning I look for another line on my lips. Soon I’ll give up. Maybe there will be so many of them they’ll combine to form a nice new lip again. Yes, I’m kidding.

Somehow women in their fifties seem to get lost, don’t they? We’re not climbing the ladder any longer, and certainly can’t claim any resemblance, physically or otherwise to our thirties and forties.

Nicky sits in the bleachers with her new women friends, wife and fiancé to two of the Goliath pitchers, the professional baseball team for which she and her friends cheer for on weekends. Her business plan was accepted, the first of its kind in baseball, and she knows Stanford, the college of her dreams, is in reach.

“Boys are too much of a risk,” I said. “I don’t want to take a chance. Hey, Ryan Tilton is ...